Page 16 of Corrupt

A chuckle leaves me and I release her, taking a few steps back. “Follow directions, Preciosa. That’s all you need to do to survive.”

“I—”

“Will not disappoint me.” With that, I turn around and walk to the door. Hand on the handle, I turn and look back at her. From head to toe, I memorize her just like this. Like the deceptive angel she is. “Go back out and have fun with your friends, Solimar. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t let them know that I’ll be watching.”

For a few beats, she doesn’t move, her eyes frozen on mine, and I feel a pang in my chest. I don’t like this emotion bubbling within—her distress hits me in the chest, and all I want to do is comfort her. Pull her against me. Soon.

Her lips part; there are things she wants to say but thinks better of it and nods. Solimar walks to me, only stopping once her hand lays over mine on the door handle. Those eyes, a gorgeous grey, stare at me for a minute.

She’s studying me, her sweet little pants fanning across my chin and lips.

“Go on, Miss Quintero.” Turning the door’s fixture, I open it and leave just enough space for her to pass. “Let’s not make things any more difficult than what they are.”

“Any more and it might break me,” she whispers under her breath, but I hear it loud and clear as if she shouted it from the rooftops. Our attraction is mutual, a complication neither of us expected. “Goodnight, Mr. Lucas.”

“Noches, Preciosa.”

And then she’s gone. Out of the room and following my directions.

I follow a minute later.

Close enough to see the sensual sway of her hips and the way every head in the room turns in her direction. Some with envy. Some with lust. Both sets quickly look away once they catch sight of me.

“Did you find what went missing?” Daniel asks when I retake my seat, his speech slightly slurred. He pours us each a drink, spilling a bit on the table and foregoing Geronimo who’s watching the room closely. The man is quick to handle unwanted visitors with a single shake of his head—make the group of women trying to dance a few feet away back up. “Did she recognize you?”

“How did you know she’d be here?”

“Signio likes to talk.” He passes me a drink before throwing his back. “Was all but shouting it to everyone before you arrived…he’s a low-plumage peacock trying to puff out his chest to anyone that would listen. He’s marrying the president’s daughter, fucking the cousin, and everyone knows this.”

“Her father is aware?” Daniel nods at my question and I close my eyes for a second, breathing in deeply to get a hold of the sudden urges dominating my senses. Ire burns me. Disgust churns in my gut. But more importantly, I have this insatiable need to protect her. “That sick fuck.”

“Quintero doesn’t care about her or the kind of man Signio is. He’s more preoccupied with passing the legislation that lets him run for another term after the previous president abolished it.”

“I heard.” Scrubbing my jaw, I flick my eyes toward the precious flower and find her forcing a smile. Ever dutiful, Solimar’s pretending to fit in with those around her but sticks out like the diamond she is. No one sees her discomfort. The need to flee in those expressive eyes while her cousin continues to pull attention her way, relishing in the way the others surround her. I see you, beautiful. As if she heard my thought, her head turns my way and our stares lock.

Genuine innocence.

Alluring grace.

Slowly, her lips curl up and it’s a complete contrast to the previous smile. This one is soft. Sweet. It’s pulling the tail of this predator who’s seconds away from doing something he shouldn’t…yet.

Hi, she mouths and rolls her eyes toward the group. There’s also a small yawn that escapes.

Go home, beautiful, I mouth back, and she nods, more than happy to oblige me in this, and I make sure no one stops her. I stand, and this time signal my men to turn with their back to the outside. People look our way, trying to figure out why they’re being blocked, and Solimar takes the opportunity to leave without saying goodbye to anyone in her group.

I’m sure she’ll send them a text.

“Geronimo?”

“Yes, Patron?”

“Make sure she’s not followed and gets home without incident.”

“Do I contact—”

“Yes. She’s to be met at the curb and her night out covered.”

“As you wish.”